29 Jul

I found this old draft and thought I would revisit some of the more pertinent issues I dealt with during my process. This post was originally started on 4/27/09, 11 days after my latissimus flap breast reconstruction surgery.

It seems as though practically over night, the color of the drainage has gone from Ruby Grapefruit to Apple Juice. I’m taking that as an encouraging sign. Although when I wake up, my back still feels like there are rocks under my skin.

Moving definitely helps. Though I’m not sure how much is too much. I don’t want to over do and hurt myself that way. But it seems that under-doing is just as bad and has the potential for lengthening my recovery. So I’m doing something I hate to do. I’ve told Ken that when he sees fit, if I’m not in pain, he’s to take me for a walk.

Poor Ken has to do so much. Not only is he taking care of me but he’s also keeping up with the household needs and the business. I’ve been so out of it, I’ve actually had to ask him on numerous occasions WHEN I need to take my meds.

The pain meds are really helpful but they’re draining me of the ability to think. It takes me about 30 minutes to write one of these daily entries. Granted, I am a lightweight when it comes to intoxication of any sort. But it’s still frustrating. I feel disjointed and I have no memory.

Eleven days after surgery I’m guessing that’s to be expected. It’s just really frustrating not being able to remember things that are really important. Like how long ago I took meds that could REALLY mess me up if I forget and take a double dosage. If I wait TOO long though, then there’s real trouble with the pain. Once the meds start wearing off, my options are 1) Take more or 2) Sit very, very still until I CAN take more.

The bad part is that if I wait, the it takes longer for the meds to kick in and they’re not as effective because they have more pain to battle. So I’m walking a very fine line here. And this is a line that my dear Hubby is in charge of because my brain is about as useful as cottage cheese.


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